We Stopped At Rock Creek For Dinner, And There He Saw
That I Had The Best Of Everything, And It Was The Same At Spitzler's,
Where We Had Supper.
We got fresh horses at The Leavings, and when I saw a strange driver
on the seat my heart sank, fearing that from there on I might not have
the same protection.
We were at a large ranch - sort of an inn - and
just beyond was Frozen Hill. The hill was given that name because a
number of years ago a terrible blizzard struck some companies of
infantry while on it, and before they could get to the valley below,
or to a place of shelter, one half of the men were more or less
frozen - some losing legs, some arms. They had been marching in thin
clothing that was more or less damp from perspiration, as the day had
been excessively hot. These blizzards are so fierce and wholly
blinding, it is unsafe to move a step if caught out in one on the
plains, and the troops probably lost their bearings as soon as the
storm struck them.
It was almost dark when we got in the stage to go on, and I thought it
rather queer that the driver should have asked us to go to the corral,
instead of his driving around to the ranch for us. Very soon we were
seated, but we did not start, and there seemed to be something wrong,
judging by the way the stage was being jerked, and one could feel,
too, that the brake was on. One by one those men got out, and just as
the last one stepped down on one side the heads of two cream-colored
horses appeared at the open door on the other side, their big troubled
eyes looking straight at me.
During my life on the frontier I have seen enough of native horses to
know that when a pair of excited mustang leaders try to get inside a
stage, it is time for one to get out, so I got out! One of those men
passengers instantly called to me, "You stay in there!" I asked,
"Why?" "Because it is perfectly safe," said a second man. I was very
indignant at being spoken to in this way and turned my back to them.
The driver got the leaders in position, and then looking around, said
to me that when the balky wheelers once started they would run up the
hill "like the devil," and I would surely be left unless I was inside
the stage.
I knew that he was telling the truth, and if he had been the first man
to tell me to get in the coach I would have done so at once, but it so
happened that he was the fourth, and by that time I was beginning to
feel abused. It was bad enough to have to obey just one man, when at
home, and then to have four strange men - three of them idiots,
too - suddenly take upon themselves to order me around was not to be
endured. I had started on the trip with the expectation of taking care
of myself, and still felt competent to do so. Perhaps I was very
tired, and perhaps I was very cross. At all events I told the driver I
would not get in - that if I was left I would go back to the ranch. So
I stayed outside, taking great care, however, to stand close to the
stage door.
The instant I heard the loosening of the brake I jumped up on the
step, and catching a firm hold each side of the door, was about to
step in when one of those men passengers grabbed my arm and tried to
jerk me back, so he could get in ahead of me! It was a dreadful thing
for anyone to do, for if my hands and arms had not been unusually
strong from riding hard-mouthed horses, I would undoubtedly have been
thrown underneath the big wheels and horribly crushed, for the four
horses were going at a terrific gait, and the jerky was swaying like a
live thing. As it was, anger and indignation gave me extra strength
and I scrambled inside with nothing more serious happening than a
bruised head. But that man! He pushed in back of me and, not knowing
the nice little ways of jerkies, was pitched forward to the floor with
an awful thud. But after a second or so he pulled himself up on his
seat, which was opposite mine, and there we two sat in silence and in
darkness. I noticed the next morning that there was a big bruise on
one side of his face, at the sight of which I rejoiced very much.
It was some distance this side of the hill when the driver stopped his
horses and waited for the two men who had been left. They seemed much
exhausted when they came up, but found sufficient breath to abuse the
driver for having left them; but he at once roared out, "Get in, I
tell you, or I'll leave you sure enough!" That settled matters, and we
started on again. Very soon those men fell asleep and rolled off their
seats to the floor, where they snored and had bad dreams. I was jammed
in a corner without mercy, and of course did not sleep one second
during the long wretched night. Twice we stopped for fresh horses, and
at both places I walked about a little to rest my cramped feet and
limbs. At breakfast the next morning I asked the driver to let me ride
on top with him, which he consented to, and from there on to Benton I
had peace and fresh air - the glorious air of Montana.
Yesterday - the day after I got here - I was positively ill from the
awful shaking up, mental as well as physical, I received on that stage
ride.
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